The Tragic Tale of Lord Peridan, A Mary Sue, and Four Monarchs
by Pevensies49
Summary: Even when the rulers of Narnia have gone madly OOC, the kingdom must be run. And loyal Narnians must keep themselves from going insane as well. Mary Sue story bashing from a different perspective- "The Peridan Letters," from the noblest Narnian of them all.
1. Chapter 1

My name, dear reader, is Peridan. If you do not recognize my name, that is well and fine. In recent years, my good friend Oreius seems to be the only creature in court, besides our monarchs and Mr. Tumnus, whom foreigners remember. I do not begrudge him the honor, though, as he has long been missing from the knowledge of Narnia in your world. It seems even the good Mr. Lewis had no recollection of him. So who am I to begrudge him these last nine years? But I digress.

I was more than happy to leave Oreius the duty of finding the poor, fainting girl who fell into the Western Woods. Under this present administration we have become so isolationist that Oreius was obliged to clap her in irons and take her to Cair Paravel. Already the Archenlanders are whispering that it is just as onerous to enter Narnia as it was under the White Witch.

But I _was_ at a council meeting when word of the unfortunate girl reached my monarchs. And then all regal dignity was lost, if my monarchs ever possessed it to begin with. Queen Lucy raced over to the beavers and whispered, as loudly as possible, "Oh, find a new prophecy about the girl, will you, my furry dears?" Queen Susan began spinning with plans for a ball and scolding Oreius for following the previous royal directives. And King Peter and King Edmund raced for the dungeons to have the honor of releasing the unknown lady.

And I, Lord Peridan, am once again obliged to conclude the business of the meeting. In fact, I am beginning to think that it would be far easier to administer Narnia without our immature monarchs being present at all.

Unfortunately, to be continued…

_This is just something that came to mind while reading one story after another with the same plot and the same (in my opinion) holes, and not meant to offend anybody or single out any story. Heck, I'm going to be poking fun of things I do in my own AU._

_This is also in a style I'm new to, so reviews would be greatly appreciated!_


	2. Chapter 2

I must have a talk with the kings and queens. For as hard as I have endeavored to restrain them, they insist on immediately having a ball for every new arrival in Narnia. I tell them that it is hardly in keeping with our isolationist policies, but of course I am ignored. I hear that our visitor has already been trying to convince my monarchs that I am an evil advisor. Pah! I believe "Lord of Narnia" would be a more fitting title than "that advisor guy." The only "guy" with whom I am familiar is one who, in an old Narnian story, conspired to destroy Cair Paravel with strange fire from the ground.* I preferred the moniker epatwercs.

Even worse, all these balls cost money. We may have to raise taxes; the people are already complaining that my monarchs spend all their time and resources either in balls, training, or purchasing new clothes. And, unfortunately, it is true. The business of actually running the kingdom has fallen upon poor, forgotten councilors such as Sallowpad and myself. Taxes, disbursal of government funds, saving of trees and stopping of busybodies and interferers, court cases… even good King Lune, Aslan grant him many more inches on his beard, will spend hours each day, listening to the complaints of his people. Our monarchs seem to have forgotten all this. They are blind to what happens outside the castle walls; the rest of Narnia, it seems, only exists as a place in which to take romantic pleasure rides. I fear that one day the people may revolt in disgust and put an end to them.

And did I mention interferers? Already the new girl thinks she knows more than us, the Lords and Councilors of Narnia! And our monarchs believe her! And they continue to bankrupt the kingdom with their gifts to her.

*Upon more research, I have discovered that the name of this scoundrel was Guy Fawkes, and that he knew of a magical substance named "gunpowder." I fear that he may become my hero.


	3. Chapter 3

When Aslan called for those who had fled from the White Witch to return and serve our new monarchs, I gladly returned to the land of my ancestors. And when He asked me to command the army in the years when my Lord Oreius was sadly absent, and to serve as a political mentor for my new monarchs, I was more than overjoyed to pledge myself to His and their service. He did not ask me to be the moral guardian of my sovereigns, and for that I am thankful. I have enough struggles with the duties with which I was tasked.

But regardless, the world from which our monarchs come must be absolutely hedonistic. It was bad enough that they insisted on having a ball on the very night of the new girl's arrival, to the great distress of our harried palace staff. But even worse, one of the kings kissed her! Again, it is not my duty to question the personal actions of my monarchs, but the location they picked was so horridly indiscreet. An _open_ _balcony_, illuminated by the light of the adjacent ballroom! Half the servants in the courtyard below saw it. And there are even rumors flying about that _both_ the kings kissed her! Of course, this means I must endeavor to suppress the whispers before they create more of a scandal. I am strongly tempted to let this fly…but no, I am a loyal Lord and Councilor of Narnia. Once again, I must labor to allow my monarchs to continue their comatose existence.

There is also the danger of an international incident now. One of my old countrymen…she claimed to be the daughter of King Lune, though I only met her very recently…was ordered out of the ball by King Peter. It appears that she offended our new guest. I must admit that I am thoroughly ashamed of the conduct of my old mates; the culture must have gone down the Winding Arrow since I left. But as our only major ally, Archenland must be appeased. I have dispatched Mr. Tumnus to try to untangle this mess, since my monarchs' only concern seems to be criticizing the princess and comforting the new lady.

What? Some unnamed threat to the security of the lady has been discovered. And so I must rush to assist the kings in organizing a security detail. It must be either the evil Calmorenes or the army of the White Witch. We may have to go exterminate them all over again.

My lady reviewer, at the moment the only "herb" I can find in our records is ironically named honesty, which the Lord Digory and Lady Polly found in the Western Wild. Unfortunately, it does not seem to have any medicinal value.

I can write no more. The blood is rushing to my head. Oh Aslan, in the name of all that is sane, please give me patience…now!

_The real reason these chapters are so short, Nothing Really Specific, is that I usually work on this story when I'm too tired to do anything else and need a laugh. I suppose it fits the character. So though I do prefer longer chapters in stories, this is an exception._

_Again, this is not meant to attack any specific story or author. I've poked fun of things from my own AU and will continue to do so._


	4. Chapter 4

By the terror of a dozen eloquent Calmorene philosophers, our guest has taken to writing…

We Narnians have never been unable to agree on a common method of writing numbers. The Dogs and Cats insist on a base-eighteen numbering system, so they can use their front and back toes to count. The Cows and Sheep and most of the other two-toed Animals prefer a binary system. And the Birds refuse to consider using any method at all. I suppose that it does not matter, as they always scratch over anything they write before others can understand it.

As far as I know, though, we humans have always used the decimal system here in Narnia and Archenland. It is as codified as our grammer, and though there is debate about where the divide is, I remember one rule vividly- in prose one can use digits for a larger amount such as 1,014, and one writes out a smaller amount such as seventeen.

It is strange but it seems that humans, in the world from which our visitor come, possess the same language and grammar that we do, but their rules of writing differ on this point. I suppose that they have not reached our level of development. I asked Queen Susan if people in her world had no words for numbers beyond three, and she laughed and said that it was easier to write with digits. I do not understand, as it is such a pain to reach for the digits on the devices called "computers" she has installed at Cair Paravel.

Sir Bree! These machines are for the use of humans only! Not for horses!

Ah, there went one of the computers, hooved by poor Bree. What a pity; we had to secretly engage the British intelligence services to build the monster. And unfortunately, they were not designed for anyone besides humans! I shall have to raise the issue of this ridiculous discrimination with my monarchs… Well, they did mention that the machine was in the very early stages of development in Spare Oom.

On what was I writing? Ah, yes, this girl has no respect for either our grammar or our customs. I asked her if she would like some lessons in court protocol, and she giggled in my face and claimed that she defiantly knew it all already. She definitely is far too defiant for her own good. Also, she insists on calling my monarchs by their given names, without the royal titles! Even Mr. Tumnus does not take such liberties.*

Unfortunately, my monarchs give the people so little reason to respect them that I suppose it does not matter. Today alone, Queen Susan ordered a shopkeeper to send to Beruna for an emergency shipment of cloth, King Edmund ran into the same person twice (I believe that it was our new guest, though there are so many rumors flying about her that I can no longer tell fact from gossip), and Queen Lucy wrecked a good deal of the kitchen. My monarchs obviously do not notice all the whispering that goes on about their caprices after they pass. It almost impossible to retain a servant for more than a year; the tailors, seamstresses, and hairdressers usually last a month. King Peter, thankfully, visited his desk today. I am afraid though that we may have lost our extradition agreement with the Lone Islands in the morass it has become. But I digress.

And those ridiculously clothes our guest wears! I presume that they were in fashion at one time, but if so they are horridly outdated. With the way they cling to her, I cannot see how they can be comfortable. I have heard people ask if she is a carnival performer. But my monarchs allow this scandal to continue.

*As demonstrated in his behavior during the adventure of Queen Susan in Tashbaan.


	5. Chapter 5

The incompetence of palace security is amazing. We had prior knowledge of the threat, and the new lady was still kidnapped. My Queens Susan and Lucy have been shut in their rooms in grief, which astounds me considering how little they interacted with the lady. I tried to remind my Queen Lucy that she is called the Valiant, but as usual I am ignored.

And so my Kings Peter and Edmund are gone with the royal army, scouring all of Narnia for the girl. If only my monarchs accorded this care for all those who have lived under their reign these past fourteen years…

I do have to admit, though, that the palace has been a much more pleasant place these past few days. With my monarchs either absent or indisposed, my Lord Tumnus and I have the authority to enact the legislation and settle the court cases that have accumulated over the past fourteen years. And the common people are certainly enjoying the quiet as well, especially the seamstresses.

But there is no such thing as peace for a lord and counselor of Narnia. Since my kings left the castle, there has been a sharp rise in incidences of men attempting to break our regulation, or more exactly King Peter's regulation, that no foreign men between the ages of twenty and thirty-five are to be admitted to the palace except during balls. He was quite insistent that this be maintained, for Queen Susan's protection. And so I must continue to enforce this onerous law, despite the fact that I would have been required to take my own leave, when I first arrived in Narnia, had the law had been in effect. The Galmians and Terebinthians are complaining that we accorded special privileges to Prince Rabadash simply because he was Calmorene. They say that we are ignoring their rights simply because, unlike Calmoren, they pose no threat to us. I am afraid that they are right. From the day I became a squire, and even as a young page, a code was impressed on me that one should protect and favor those less fortunate or capable than oneself. I do not understand why my monarchs cannot be made to see this injustice; after all, they were knighted by Aslan himself, an honor that no others, and certainly not myself, can claim. And so the strong take precedence over the weak, and life and our isolation continue.

But I dread the day when the lady returns, as she must eventually. I wish that she could disappear more often. I say…perhaps young Prince Corin could assist me in this matter…

But no, I cannot ask him to go through such torture. I am afraid having that lady at his side would dampen even his fine young spirits.

Perhaps I could enlist a marshwiggle?

_This is not meant to attack any story or author. I have and will continue to poke fun at things in my own AU._


	6. Chapter 6

Last night there were fireworks celebrating the return of the army and the lady. I truly do not know where the fireworks came from. My monarchs say that they are toys, but some inquisitive fauns ripped one apart and accidentally lit the powder that filled it. They are still recovering from the burns. Mr. Tumnus has begun an investigation, but nobody, even my monarchs, seems to know the origin of this strange powder.

And, in view of the danger her…forgive me for saying this, Aslan…her she-wolfness incurred, my kings decided to take it upon themselves to train her in the art of war. My publically expressed view is that it would be a far more economical to hire an extra guard or even a teacher than to invest the royal time in such a manner, but I am forgotten, as always. She said something about me trying to separate her from…then she said something unintelligible and almost owlish, but far too silly for an owl to say. I thought at first that she was referring to both the kings, but I believe she also referred to the strange object as a possession of hers, so I am confused. At any rate, I have no time to try and decipher her meaning. All of the business that their royal majesties have abandoned must be attended to.

Reading reports of the victory we won over the villains who kidnapped the new lady, I am longing to return to the battlefield. It might seem strange for one who has seen his fill of death to say such a thing, but I say so out of concern for my fellow Narnians. It was by the barest of chances that we are not instead mourning one of the greatest tragedies in Narnian history.

I regret to say that my King Peter's military incompetence nearly cost us the battle and the lives of our army. Once again, our archers were deployed too far to the rear to make any difference except in case of defeat. And again as usual, he insisted on a frontal assault on a numerically superior foe rather than taking advantage of an excellent defensive position. As for flanking, it must not be in the vocabulary of Spare Oom. It was certainly by Aslan's grace that the enemy did not think to simply encircle our men. We must have used the same tactics in every single battle I have not been involved in. I cannot believe King Edmund has allowed this to continue. Our victory at Anvard was an excellent model, but it has been cast by the wayside in favor of arrogance and inflexibility. There is folly in courage, but there is no courage in folly.

The world must be going mad. Even as I write, fawns are now running about on two legs and trying to imitate Mr. Tumnus. Insanity is prevailing, and I am afraid that I am being washed away by it.


	7. Chapter 7

The plan seemed perfect. I had discovered that our guest was blown into our world by the very concoction that had injured our fauns. And so, with the help of the rest of the council, I was able to obtain several barrels of the powder and place them around her room. After all, if it was capable of sending her to pollute our land, surely it could send her back as well? But I am now convinced that nothing can harm or impact her unless she wills it. Dozens of screams and gasps and a few hundred words later, there she stood amidst the rubble, sword in hand and eyes blasting dragon fire, with not a hair or jewel out of place. She is invincible.

And what was it that drove me, a loyal lord and councilor of Narnia, to this deed? It was a young nobleman, and one who had not even been born into the position, for there are none of those in Narnia. It was a position he had earned by his courage and his sword, protecting his fellow Narnians. And he was destroyed by my monarchs. His fault? He dared to court the visitor. My kings viewed this as a threat to themselves, and now the people are on verge of revolution over this abuse of royal authority. And so we were driven to act, for the sake of Narnia.

To commit treason against our Aslan-appointed monarchs, as much as they have failed as our rulers, would be unthinkable. Our only course of action was to act against the visitor, in the desperate hope that this would save our monarchs and our country. But we did not reckon on the power bestowed upon her.

And so now I stand, disgraced and in chains, before the monarchs. I believe that this is the first time they have met together in court for years, but it does not matter anymore. I will not betray Tumnus and the others, and they understand this. Though it pains them, they understand that someone must remain, to endeavor to contain this madness. Yet my task, to accept the disgrace and punishment, seems far easier than theirs.

The High King is all for relieving my head from my shoulders. I am a proud man; I will stand and die as a faithful servant of Aslan should, with the belief that I did my duty. And yet judgment is about to fall like the vortex of various-colored thunderbolts our visitor's eyes resemble.


	8. Chapter 8

I await the dread sentence from my monarchs. They are whispering for my head; the Magnificent, the Just, the Gentle, the Valiant, where have they gone? What has possessed them? Or perhaps these words were always titles and nothing more.

But now the inevitable unexpected occurs. "Oh, yous guys'll forget all he ever did, right, deary?" our guest asks as she burrows into the High King's side. Aslan, not in public again…

For death I was prepared; for death I was ready to be either the instrument or the victim, if that was what it took to save Narnia. But live I will, and the one whom I shall owe for this is _her_! For I swear that the High King lost stature as he melted.

And already they are ignoring me, though that was not surprising. "Oh, my deary, we'll live happily ever after here and in our real world together, right?" the girl says. "This all was just, you know, like a bad dream or something."

I cannot take this anymore. Like Brutus in the old Archen legend of Julius Castor, I tried to preserve my country and failed. Forgive me, Aslan; there is but one recourse for me. Narnia is lost.

**88888**

Lord Peridan- now if there's one human with any sense in Narnia, it's him. Going out while the going's bad, as we marshwiggles say.

We're all moving to the northern marshes, that's what we're doing. Not that it will make any difference for Lord Peridan. The monarchs might decide to chop off his head anyway, or he could arrive there and drown the next day, or an enemy might decide to land there and he'd want to be a hero. And most of the heroes I've heard of are dead, and usually forgotten anyway. At any rate, I doubt he'll last long. I hear the ground is cold and hard, and the weather dreadful, and that the eels stay away, though with his troubles he likely won't even notice.

Come to think of it, I suppose he is strong for a city dweller. The swamps can't be much worse that having to put up with folk like they have in Cair Paravel. Maybe he'll make it through a year, though I doubt it. He's putting a bold face on it; keeps saying "It's the only unspoiled place left in Narnia." Even says we marshwiggles are good folk; "Only people they haven't corrupted," says he. The recklessness of youth, I suppose. He was far livelier before that girl arrived from Spare Oom. You know, I now think an experience like that sobers a chap down. He learns life isn't all fricasseed frogs and eel pie; he learns what an awful place Narnia really is.

**88888**

Requiescat in pace, Lord Peridan. Rest in peace, Narnia. Till your out-of-character monarchs and Mary Sue depart and a tormented land and people shall live again.

Thank Aslan their reign will be over within a year…


End file.
